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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012811">listen to the wind blow, down comes the night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorenterprise/pseuds/doctorenterprise'>doctorenterprise</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Cheating, Conflict Resolution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Infidelity, M/M, Reconciliation, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Sexual Dysfunction, Therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:09:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012811</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorenterprise/pseuds/doctorenterprise</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re seven years in when everything goes to shit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'd like to take this opportunity to thank <a href="https://ethicslessonsfromarobot.tumblr.com/">ethicslessonsfromarobot</a> for indispensable beta reading and excellent suggestions for story improvement/flow. Could not have made this half as good as it is without you!</p><p>You can find me on tumblr as <a href="https://doctorenterprise.tumblr.com/">doctorenterprise</a> as well if you're interested.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They’re seven years in when everything goes to shit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Buck, can I borrow your phone? Mine’s dead and I need to give Nat a shout about dinner on Thursday,” Steve called up the stairs, pausing to listen for a response. He could hear the faint sounds of the shower running in their en suite and smiled – a freshly showered Bucky usually meant a little private fun was heading his way, especially if it happened in the middle of the day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky, still showering, didn’t answer. Steve moved into the kitchen to see Bucky’s cell laying face down on the table and plucked it up to unlock and dial Nat’s number. He typed in the well-memorized password and watched the screen open directly into Bucky’s text messages. He moved to swipe out of the message and open the phone app when he paused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His heart dropped.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There, in a conversation between Bucky and someone whose contact wasn’t saved, was a photo of a naked woman, curled up with her hand between her legs, and an associated text reading ‘Thanks for the nooner, baby. ;-) Maybe this will convince you to stay next time.’</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Jesus.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stared at the photo for what seemed like hours. She was pretty, blonde. She had a geometric tattoo down one side of her ribs and bright red lipstick, eyes lined with kohl. Perky little tits with tiny pink nipples. Long, smooth legs and a perfect all-over tan. God, she was fucking gorgeous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God, she was fucking his </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The text. Baby? Next time? Steve’s breathing came too fast as his mind raced with the possibilities of all that could mean. Was this woman Bucky’s girlfriend? She called him baby – </span>
  <em>
    <span>Steve</span>
  </em>
  <span> called him baby. What did she mean ‘next time’? How long had this been going on? Did she know about him? Did she think she just hit the fucking jackpot with Bucky, like there was any possibility he didn’t already belong to someone? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Most importantly, what the hell was she giving Bucky that he wasn’t already getting at home?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve clicked the phone off, all thoughts of Natasha and dinner and normal life long gone. He set the phone back face down on the table and stared at it, mind blank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He moved into the living room and sat down hard on the couch, hands on his knees. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky poked his head into the living room, hair wet from the shower and a grin spreading across his face when he caught sight of Steve. He slipped onto the cushion beside Steve and kissed him softly, easily. “Hi, sweetheart. How was lunch with Sam?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked him in the eyes, shocked at the normalcy. Didn’t he know everything was ruined? Didn’t he know what he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky frowned. He put a hand on Steve’s forehead. “Everything okay? Are you sick?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t get sick,” Steve said softly. Bucky rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Supersoldier,” he teased. “As if I could forget.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled weakly. “Lunch was good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’d you go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Some fish and chips place Sam likes. It was greasy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky snorted. “Yeah, deep-fried everything is like that, I’ve heard. Count your blessings you don’t get sick or Sam’s food adventures would be sending you to an early grave.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen,” Bucky said, fingers curling in the hair at Steve’s nape as he leaned in for another kiss. Steve let himself be kissed, still at a loss for how to react in his new world. “I wanna take you out tonight. Maybe we go for sushi, take a walk over the Brooklyn Bridge? I know you love the view at night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna treat you special, sweetheart,” Bucky smiled, climbing into his lap. “I wanna make my best guy feel nice, that such a hardship?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked down at his hands and shrugged, heart beating so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Make him feel special? Being loved by Bucky had always made him feel special, until today. “Maybe you’re right. I’m not feeling so good today.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky frowned and stroked down Steve’s cheeks to cup his jaw. Kissed him twice, nice and slow. “Maybe it’s all that grease.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rain check on dinner then?” Bucky asked him, thumbs stroking over Steve’s cheeks gently. “How about I make you some tea and you can take a nap instead?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Maybe that would be better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Bucky brings him a cup of chamomile tea and strokes his hair in bed, Steve thinks he must have imagined the text. He must have been going crazy, or maybe it was a wrong number. This Bucky would never step out, this Bucky loved him so much – they were perfect together, it didn’t make any sense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In his heart, though, he knew. As he drifted off to sleep, he promised himself he’d talk to Bucky about it tomorrow. They could get through this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But they didn’t talk about it. Or rather, Steve never brought it up and Bucky kept on thinking his secret was a secret. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, Steve made it his mission to become the perfect husband. If Bucky was happy at home, he wouldn’t have to cheat, Steve reasoned. If he got what he needed from Steve, that beautiful woman from his phone would be obsolete.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve spent his days making Bucky’s favourite dinners, planning spontaneous and incredible date nights, and putting out way more often and athletically than ever before. It was exhausting being ‘on’ all the time, but he was willing to put in the work if it meant not losing his husband.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy mother of god, Steve,” Bucky panted, flopping on his back and wiping sweat from his brow. He grinned roguishly, eyes making a filthy trip up and down Steve’s naked body. “Didn’t know you had it in you, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> are what was in me,” Steve grinned, rolling over onto Bucky’s chest and scooting down to suck his husband’s softening cock into his mouth. “Mmm. Can you go again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky stared down at him, appalled, thighs twitching from overstimulation. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>We just went three times!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I could go again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve established you’re a supersoldier many times before, Stevie,” Bucky laughed, wriggling free of Steve’s eager mouth to cup himself protectively. Steve sucked a hickey into the skin along Bucky’s iliac furrow, laving over it soothingly with his tongue. “I am just a man, I need to recover!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“After dinner, then,” Steve decided, crawling back up Bucky’s body to kiss him deeply. “We’re having a pot roast with garlic potatoes. And roasted carrots, but who cares about that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky moaned. “Gravy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, baby,” Steve smiled. The word felt wrong in his mouth, knowing someone else was also using it to refer to his husband, but nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong. Everything was fine and Bucky was happy; here, with Steve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, I love you,” Bucky sighed, following his declaration up with a filthy kiss. “No idea what’s gotten into you lately, but I fucking love it.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve buried his face in Bucky’s neck and took a few steadying breaths. This is what he wanted to hear – he wanted to know that Bucky loved him, was happy to be with him. It felt false, though, to know it was coming on the heels of Steve forcing it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you, too, you know that?” he asked seriously. “You’re the love of my life, Buck. I just want you to be happy. Whatever it takes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky smiled softly and cupped Steve’s cheek with his right hand. If Steve didn’t know what he did, he’d have missed the brief shadow in Bucky’s eyes. “I know that. ‘T’s why I married you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Steve told him, kissing him again. “Don’t you go forgetting it on me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course not.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Then let’s get our buns in gear – that pot roast ain’t gonna make its own gravy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky let loose a long, pained groan and sighed. “I love gravy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughed and smacked Bucky’s ass and he hopped out of bed. “You stay here and rest up – you’ll need your strength for what I’m gonna do to you after dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Bucky groaned, sitting up reluctantly and wincing from the athletic marathon of sex they’d just finished. “Gotta get on clearing out the gutters before winter hits or we’ll be living in leak city come spring thaw.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I took care of that yesterday, baby,” Steve told him. One of Steve’s many strategies to keep Bucky happy and faithful was to keep him free of unpleasant tasks at home. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Bucky said, surprised. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that – I said I’d take care of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I just had the time and I know how much you hate doing it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. Thanks, sweetheart. I appreciate it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve beamed down at his husband and pressed another kiss to his lips. “You’re welcome. Now, grab some shuteye while I get dinner sorted. I’m not kidding – tonight’s events include a little purple vibrator that’s going up your ass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be the fuckin’ </span>
  <em>
    <span>death</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me, Rogers.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Weeks later, Steve was feeling like things might be heading on a track he could manage. His husband was happily fed, sexually sated (read: exhausted), and free of tasks that made home life a bore. It was going splendidly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sure, Steve was constantly running on empty. He was up at the crack of dawn making full hot breakfasts every morning. He spent his days at the tower working on strategy and battle policy with the new SHIELD’s operations department. He was home immediately after work every day to get elaborate dinners on the table by the time Bucky rolled in. Every evening was filled with wild, marathon sex that made him feel dirty for having. But it was great – everything was going great.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Until.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetheart, I’m not gonna make it home for dinner tonight,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Bucky’s voice came over the phone. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I got tied up with some weapons stuff at work with the R&amp;D team. Probably won’t be home until after 11 or so.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve glanced at the oven, which held the brisket he’d been slowly roasting for three hours already. “Oh – it can’t wait?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, sweetheart, I’m sorry. It was super last minute or I would have given you a heads up. I wouldn’t be surprised if Tony’s got us here half the night.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay, I know how he gets sometimes. Text me when you’re on your way home? I picked up some of those mag-cuffs from Bruce the other day and I’m dying to try them out…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, absolutely,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Bucky’s filthy grin could be heard through the phone. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just try and stop me, big guy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, baby, talk to you later. Have fun at work. Love you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You, too.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And that was that – dinner was cancelled, but Steve was just a little relieved to have a free night to relax. It had been a busy couple of months since he’d first found those texts on Bucky’s phone and needed to step up his game. Having a night to himself wasn’t a huge hardship.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two episodes of some inane police procedural later, Steve felt a little differently. Spending so much time with Bucky recently had made him feel a little dependent on the company and he missed his husband something fierce – it was only half worry about what Bucky could get up to out late without Steve. Mostly, he just wanted to curl up on the couch with his favourite person and watch a movie. Couches are too big to lounge on alone, too empty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew Bucky wouldn’t be home until late, which made the caretaker recently born inside him worry. Maybe Bucky had missed dinner? Most days recently, he was home at a decent hour and happy to scarf down seconds and thirds of whatever Steve had made for dinner. Who was feeding him tonight?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On a whim, he grabbed his phone to text Tony. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey Tony – what are you guys doing for dinner? I have a whole brisket here I could bring over if you guys haven’t planned anything yet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He waited a few minutes to hear Tony's plans for feeding his horde of starving R&amp;D employees, passing the time by thinking up the best way to transport food for ten or more people.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His phone pinged with a response from Tony:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I assure you, Cap, neither Pepper nor I have any need for your old man boiled vegetables – we’re enjoying quite the evening at Balthazar tonight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Of course – there was no last minute emergency in R&amp;D. There was only an excuse to get out of coming home so Bucky could go fuck his hot blonde mistress. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Steve whispered to himself, staring down at his phone helplessly. “Shit, shit </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So the dinners, the sex, and the easy home life weren’t cutting it, then. There had to be a different explanation for why Bucky would run around on him, Steve thought. If everything was going perfectly at home, what the fuck could be the problem?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If what I do isn’t the problem</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then it’s who I am</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not enough. Not good enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It made sense, in Steve’s distraught mind. It made sense that he wasn’t enough for Bucky. Bucky was amazing – he was beautiful, funny, brilliant, sweet. Bucky had spent his whole life looking out for Steve, making sure his six was covered, nursing him back to health every damn winter for years, finishing fights Steve could damn well start but never end. It made sense that Bucky needed more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It made sense.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was the answer he’d talked himself into by the time Bucky came home. 11:53pm. Late. Too late. Maybe late enough that he’d gotten what he needed and wouldn’t need to go back for a while. Maybe.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You awake, sweetheart?” Bucky whispered into the darkness of their bedroom. Steve contemplated feigning sleep, but knew Bucky could always tell.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry I’m so late. You know how Tony gets.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could hear the clinking of Bucky’s belt as he stripped down and tossed his clothes in the hamper. Steve made a mental note to wash them immediately tomorrow morning – he didn’t want that woman’s scent on his husband’s clothes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do,” Steve murmured in agreement. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna grab a shower before we bust out those mag-cuffs – long day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve froze. The showers. The fucking showers – god, how could he have been so goddamn stupid? All those days Bucky came home and showered in the middle of the day. All those showers he had before absolutely ravishing Steve. Jesus. Steve could hear it now like some sort of mocking echo inside his head – </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, let me wash someone else’s pussy off my dick before you suck it, Steve, it’s only polite</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt sick to his stomach knowing Bucky had put his mouth on someone else before turning around and putting it on Steve. He felt wretched and dirty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I changed my mind,” Steve breathed shakily around tears. “I’m a little tired. Maybe tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” Bucky agreed, slipping into their en suite bathroom. “Go to sleep, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve didn’t fall asleep until the sun was nearly risen, his heart heavy in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the morning, Steve woke exhausted, feeling like his world had fallen out from under his feet for the second time in two months. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled onto his back and stared at the blank white ceiling, wondering how on earth he wound up here. He’d lived through the Depression, through sickness after sickness, through war, through </span>
  <em>
    <span>dying</span>
  </em>
  <span>, through the world damn near ending time and again, and at the end of it all – he was here. Cold, unworthy, and alone in the bed he shared with a man who wanted someone else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He heaved a sigh and hauled himself out of bed to face the day, not even noticing the clock reading 9:03am instead of his usual 6:15am. As he made his way down the stairs, the smell of bacon, pancakes, and coffee greeted him. Was Bucky cooking breakfast?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Steve turned the corner into the kitchen, he saw his husband at the stove, hissing and shaking his right hand while trying to flip a pancake with the other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Bucky whined. “Fucking hell, that’s hot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Normally you don’t touch the metal pan with your hand, Buck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky whirled around in surprise at Steve’s voice, flinging pancake batter off the spatula in his and. “No! You’re supposed to be asleep!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I woke up?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn,” Bucky sighed dejectedly, setting down his spatula. “I was trying to make breakfast in bed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s bruised heart fluttered a little at the thought. “For me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously, punk,” Bucky grinned, coming around the island to kiss Steve soundly on the lips. “You’ve been so good to me lately. Thought I’d return the favour when you slept in past the crack of fucking dawn.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve flushed, glancing away from Bucky’s shining blue eyes. “Oh. Thanks. Sorry I woke up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay, sweetheart, now you can have coffee while I finish the pancakes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky handed him a mug of piping hot coffee and steered him towards one of the high chairs at the island to enjoy it while he cooked. Steve watched as Bucky fluttered around the kitchen like a trapped bird, periodically pausing to stare at the pancakes as they cooked like he knew what to look for. It was endearing, to say the least.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I might’a burned some,” Bucky admitted sheepishly as he set a stack of slightly too dark pancakes and a pound of bacon down in front of Steve. “But I followed the recipe, so they should be good, I think.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You used a recipe?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, no boxed pancakes for my husband, thank you very much,” Bucky grinned, ruffling Steve’s hair. “Besides, you’re like some sort of gourmet chef now, apparently. Gotta pull my weight before I get too fat!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smirked despite his aching heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The pancakes were…just the right side of edible, but the thought is what made Steve’s emotions bubble back up from the cold depths he’d shoved them into. “This is great, Buck, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“’Course,” Bucky told him, waving off the thanks. “I love you. And the way to a man’s heart is through his belly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a belly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you do not,” Bucky grinned roguishly, leaning in to run a hand down Steve’s abdomen appreciatively. “Not even a little. You can’t deny it would be cute, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve scowled and started in on his bacon. “You just want more ass to grab.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Caught me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When breakfast was done and Bucky had finished the mountain of dishes that pancakes had somehow created, shooing Steve from the kitchen when he tried to help, they collapsed onto the couch with bellies near bursting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love bacon,” Bucky said dreamily, stroking Steve’s hair as Steve sprawled over top of him. “So salty, so crunchy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re salty and crunchy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky snorted and flicked Steve on the head. They kissed for a few minutes until Steve pulled away, ready to discuss his newest plan of attack for keeping his husband happy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I talk to you about something?” he asked Bucky seriously. “It’s not bad, I just had an idea I thought we could try.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking. About before the war and everything. We used to double date and stuff a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember,” Bucky smiled. “Back before we pulled our heads out of our asses.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agreed softly. His chest felt too tight. He couldn’t get air. “I just remember how much you liked going with women. I thought…if maybe things are a little boring for you, I thought. Maybe you wanna – maybe see about finding a woman to join us sometimes. You know, at night. If you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s face was blank as he lay beneath Steve, unmoving. There was a long moment where neither of them said anything or moved at all. The only sound was the roar of blood Steve could hear in his own head as he waited.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grasped him by the shoulders and pushed gently, sitting both of them up and away from each other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he said firmly, voice even. “I don’t want that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s whole body felt cold and numb. He couldn’t feel his own face as he tried to form a response. “It might make it better for you, Buck. And – maybe for both of us. If we were both there. So we could be together, with her, and it would be more fun for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky whispered, voice heavy with emotion. “I don’t want that. I don’t want some woman in our bed. What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I just think – ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t do that,” Bucky stopped him. “Don’t say it’s nothing. Steve, I love you. You are all I could ever need.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Steve said weakly, the tears along his lashes betraying him and finally spilling down his cheeks. “If I was, you would stay and you wouldn’t have some – someone else. But it’s okay; I think I can make it work if you want more, Bucky. I can be okay with that, I just want to be there so I’m not – so it’s not like you’re leaving.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky whispered, eyes red with tears. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Steve begged, grabbing at his husband’s hands. “Please, I can do it. I’m – sorry, I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted to talk about this. But I can get over it, Buck, I can. We can have someone else sometimes, it’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky repeated, hands shaking. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry? No, I don’t – no. We’re not doing that, Steve, absolutely not.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Bucky, please – I want to make it better, I can make things better, I promise,” Steve pleaded, tears still trailing down his cheeks. Bucky’s grip on his hands was crushing, almost painful. “I know I can’t be there for you like that, I’m not a woman, I can’t – I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It’s okay though, because you can have her, but I wanna be part of it if that’s what you need. I love you. We can be together, you and me, and she can be there sometimes too, for you. I don’t – I don’t think I want to touch her, or – or do anything, but I could just be there and then we can be together. You and me, right? And then that would be better for you? ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No, Steve – god, no. I love you. I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Bucky implored, reaching out to wipe the wet trail of tears from Steve’s cheeks. “You gotta listen to me, sweetheart. My god, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I ever made you feel like this. You are enough for me, Steve, you are more than I could ever deserve. You have to believe that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I – I can try to do better, Buck. She’s so pretty – I’m sorry. I’m so tired. I can’t even – maybe I should go for a bit. Maybe she could come here and you could – but not in our room, maybe in the guest room.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Bucky prayed, covering his face with both hands and drawing a shaky breath. “No, Steve. I’m not ever seeing her again. Neither one of us is. I don’t want you to go anywhere and I don’t want anyone else. I’m so sorry, sweetheart; I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to stop - not just because I found out. I told you it’s okay now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky said firmly. “It’s not okay and I didn’t stop because you found out. I stopped last night. I didn’t have a meeting, Steve, I’m sorry. I went over there to tell her I didn’t want to see her again because I love you. I hadn’t seen her in weeks – I don’t want her; it was stupid. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I regretted every single second of it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But why stop now? I’ve been trying to be everything you need, but it’s not working,” Steve weeps, taking big gulps of air. “It wasn’t enough. She’s gotta be giving you something I don’t, so why stay with me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart, you are so much better than anyone else could hope to be for me,” Bucky told him softly, pulling Steve in by the nape to cradle his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He held Steve for several long minutes, rocking them both in a vain attempt at comfort. Neither one of them was anywhere close to comfort right now. “How – how long have you been feeling like this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How long have you known.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since before Nat came for dinner,” Steve answered, fingers clutching great fistfuls of Bucky’s sweater like he might fly away. “I tried to use your phone to call her. I didn’t mean to snoop, it was just there when I opened the lock screen. I’m sorry, Buck, I didn’t mean to find it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>apologize</span>
  </em>
  <span> for that - hold on. Steve, that was before Halloween. It’s January.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“God, Steve, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered into Steve’s hair, dampening it with his own tears. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this, so sorry you’ve felt it for so long. I can’t believe I ever did this to you. You’re the love of my life, Steve, you gotta believe me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would you need her if you love me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The question broke both of their already shattered hearts and Bucky let out a sob into Steve’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t need her, sweetheart. I needed to feel – I don’t know, in control or needed or... I should have come to you for that. I’m so sorry.” Bucky rubbed calming circles on Steve’s back, both of them clinging to each other like letting go would mean letting go forever. “Why I did it doesn’t matter as much as how I hurt you, Steve. I can never forgive myself for this and I don’t want you to, either. You are the thing that means the most to me all of existence and I made you feel like garbage. I am so unbelievably sorry, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You love me? You want to be with me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“More than anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve moved in closer to Bucky and leaned into his outstretched arm, seeking comfort. They huddled together like lost ducklings for nearly half an hour before either of them spoke again. Bucky pet Steve’s hair constantly, running his fingers through the fluffy blonde mess. Steve took long, steadying breaths. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not okay. What you did.” Steve pulled back to look at Bucky, wiping his own tears and wrapping his arms around his ribs. “If you love me, you can’t do that. Ever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Steve, I promise you I know that,” Bucky affirmed, resting his flesh hand on Steve’s knees. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever done. I know that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be with you,” Steve told him, knuckles white as they dug into his own flesh. “Because I love you. But I don’t want to feel like I have to be perfect for you to love me. Or like I’m not enough for you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Steve,” Bucky promised. “Of course – you will never have to feel like that again, I swear.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t see someone else behind my back. If you want to, you have to tell me so we can figure it out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There is no possible future where I want someone else ever again, Steve. I want to be with you forever, like we always promised,” Bucky whispered, reaching out to trail his fingers down Steve’s tear-reddened cheek. “If you’ll have me, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m tired,” Steve said abruptly. Bucky nodded, like agreeing with Steve immediately was the only way to prove he cared. “I didn’t sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Do you want to sleep now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Maybe we can take a nap? And then go for dinner. And we can talk more tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky nodded again, ecstatic at the confirmation that he would in fact be seeing Steve tomorrow. “We can do that. Do you want to nap together? Or I can stay down here. Whatever you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, let’s go together. I’d rather be with you right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They lay down to sleep, both of them still wearing jeans and socks, unable to stomach the thought of changing together – the intimacy of undressing seemed too far outside the tense atmosphere of their little nap. Steve was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their nap had given both of them some much needed time to regroup and calm runaway trains of thought, thoughts that served no purpose but to escalate their panic in the moment. Steve slept for hours, well into the afternoon, with Bucky laying flat on his back beside him, wide-awake but silent and unmoving. They may have both needed a break, but only Steve’s was restful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The nap gave way to a tense dinner and an even more tense evening, Steve insisting they spend the time together but regularly taking short moments to step away, always seconds too late to keep Bucky from seeing the glint of tears in his eyes. It broke his fucking heart – tore him up inside to see the effect of his carelessness with Steve’s trust. Steve was in pain, deep and aching inside, and he’d caused it </span>
  <em>
    <span>on purpose</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On purpose because, no, he hadn’t slept with someone else to cause Steve pain, but he’d known without a doubt that it would blow up his marriage. He hadn’t been under the thoughtless impression that Steve would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine with this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of course not. They’d lived seven monogamous years of marriage together, of course Bucky knew what would hurt Steve and what wouldn’t. Steve getting hurt was always a certainty in the trajectory of Bucky’s dive into infidelity and he’d taken the goddamn leap anyways.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They hadn’t spoken further that evening, a massive relief to Bucky. He wasn’t sure how to repair the damage he’d done beyond apologizing as sincerely as he could. That wasn’t enough, he knew that, and Steve deserved so much more proof than an apology.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So when Steve had drifted to sleep that night after pleading with Bucky to come to bed too, Bucky had found himself back downstairs on the couch with a Starkpad in hand and hours into a YouTube spiral in search of answers. As it had turned out, he was not alone in his search for redemption; the Internet held some difficult truths for him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One particular video focused heavily on rebuilding a relationship after cheating and Bucky watched it on repeat, eyes wide and tired, curled up on the couch and crying pathetically as the internet therapist broke down exactly what he’d done to Steve. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re watching this video, you’re here because you’ve been unfaithful to your partner and want help in repairing the damage you’ve caused to your relationship – that’s good. This is a very important first step and shows that you still value your relationship and are willing to take steps to save it. We’ll talk today about how you can help manage the effects of infidelity and rebuild a healthy relationship with your partner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You haven’t just impacted your relationship and how your partner looks at you – you’ve directly impacted how your partner looks at his or herself. You’ve made them question how worthy they are of love, how attractive they are, how valuable they are to you and others. Reminding them of their value with your daily actions will be key to rebuilding the trust your partner has for you, as well as their own sense of worth and lovability.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Acknowledging your faults, whether that means discussing them rationally or listening to your partner vent their pain and frustration directly at you, is important. You may need to bear the weight of a lot of anger. As long as these faults are yours, your partner won’t believe these faults are their own. If you try to brush your faults under the rug, you are showing your partner you don’t value their pain or distress.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>By attempting to validate your infidelity – or deny it when your partner knows it’s true – you’re ensuring your partner won’t be able to feel secure in your relationship. You may need to be the bad guy. Owning up to your infidelity is the most effective way to help your partner recover and to help you chip away at the wall you have built between you and them. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is not a sprint – this is a marathon. You won’t regain your partner’s trust and they won’t regain their sense of self-worth if you try to turn your relationship around overnight. You need to put in the time. Losing your patience when your partner doesn’t feel validated immediately only gives them more reason not to trust your actions.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Working to rebuild your relationship does not end with atonement – you also need to identify why you were unfaithful to your partner. This could be for any number of reasons: maybe you were drinking or using drugs; maybe it was impulsive; maybe there was something missing from your relationship like affection, attention, or validation. Something led you to the decision you made. Identifying that ‘something’ will allow you to change it and help you avoid making the same decision in the future.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, you need to ask yourself why you’re here watching this video. You’re here because your partner found out about your affair, whether you told them or they discovered it on their own, and you’re trying to learn how to repair the damage to your partnership and show your remorse appropriately. Before you embark on your quest to repair your relationship, ask yourself this: are you sorry you hurt your partner, or just sorry you were caught? Sincerity is, in this situation, the first step in the journey you’re about to take.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky clicked the replay button and started the video yet again, not noticing the pale orange light filtering in through the living room curtains. He’d been at this for hours, searching for answers, desperate for ways to make Steve stay – to make Steve realize he was the most important thing in Bucky’s life. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck?” Steve’s voice came soft, timid, from the doorway by the stairs. Bucky looked up and saw his husband standing there in long pajamas and a sweatshirt, face half nervous and half embarrassed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, surprised to notice the morning light filtering in. “You sleep okay? I’ve been down here all night, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t sure – if maybe you weren’t here,” Steve confessed, looking down at his hands as his face pinked. “It’s stupid, never mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Bucky held open his arms and motioned for Steve to come lay across his chest, heart leaping when his husband settled into his arms seeking comfort. Bucky held him tight, like Steve might fly away if he let go even for a second. “It’s okay to be worried I might do it again, Steve. I hurt you a lot. I don’t expect you to trust me right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But I love you,” Steve argued half-heartedly, face buried in Bucky’s chest. Bucky stroked both hands down Steve’s sides and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m so, so grateful that you do, sweetheart. You’ve loved me through a lot of shit, since we were kids. This is the first time I’ve broken your heart, though.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’ head, taking as much comfort in the touch as he was giving. “I wanna fix this, Steve. I can’t go another hundred years without you – I want to prove that I love you, if you’ll have me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be with you,” Steve told him again, repeating his declaration from the night before. “I just don’t know if I can take the secrets again, Buck. I’d understand, if you want someone else. I’m just gonna have a hard time being okay with expanding the scope of our marriage. I don’t want someone else, so I don’t get it. But if that’s what it takes to keep you, I can try to get over it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky squeezed his eyes closed, shoving down the rise of anguish in his chest. “That’s not what I mean when I say I want to be with you, Steve. I don’t mean I want you and others, okay? Just you. You’re it for me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wasn’t yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I know. But Steve, you gotta believe me when I say that what I did? Had nothing to do with how much I love you, okay? That was about how much I love me. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done, but it wasn’t because of you, sweetheart, I promise. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what was it about?” Steve demanded weakly, lifting his head to stare up into Bucky’s eyes. The terrified look on Steve’s face was the worst thing – the worst thing – because Bucky hadn’t seen it there in the face of certain death, or Hydra, or the open door of an airplane with no chutes. But Bucky could put it there with one filthy act of betrayal. “If it’s not because of me, why? Why her? How did this even happen?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky sat quietly, staring at the ceiling as he tried to piece together an answer that would help Steve understand. Help him realize that Bucky’s decisions weren’t because Steve was unworthy or not enough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was…she needed me, I guess. I met her –” he paused and looked into Steve’s eyes, searching for the truth. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. I met her on an op. Drug bust; that cocaine smuggling ring inside the children’s toy store chain from back in the summer. Her boyfriend was the shipping and receiving guy who basically managed the whole operation. He got her a job doing the scheduling for all the drivers, made her organize shipments to get product where it needed to be-- specifically the coke. She’s the one that came to SHIELD and asked for help bringing the whole operation down. She was our inside woman – only it went bad. Real bad,” Bucky relayed the story like a mission report – like it happened to someone else, not to him, not like it was the story of how he ruined his life and betrayed the most important person in his life. Steve remained quiet, watching him intently. “The boyfriend found out, beat her up something awful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve, despite the ache in his chest, let out a soft sound of sympathy. Bucky paused for a breath before continuing, “She called me; I was running point so she had my number. When I went to pick her up – she just…it wasn’t like she just jumped me, Steve. I bandaged her up, got her sorted. She was crying the whole time, clinging to me like I was her fucking savior. Kept telling me I was her guardian angel, saying how I was the only person she could count on in her life. When she kissed me, I was so shocked I didn’t even think about it – I was so hopped up on adrenaline. I – I fucked her in the safe house. Didn’t even take off my fucking pants. It was – it felt great, for all of ten minutes. Then it felt like the worst thing I’d ever done. I left her at the safe house and called Barton to take over. Came back here and – and –”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took a deep breath, shaky in his chest. “And you were here, all sweet and worried about me being called out late, missing dinner. You saved me some and heated it up for me while I showered. God, I thought I’d never be clean of what I did. Could barely look you in the eye all night. Steve, it was the worst day of my life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because – I don’t know, she needed me. It felt nice, to help someone and have them need me. I’ve always been the one who needed fixing, after the war and after Hydra. And she just kept saying how she wanted to feel something good, something nice. It was like...I could make something good for once instead of making it worse, you know? But it felt so awful, to think about what I’d done and how it would hurt you. By the time I woke up the next day, I’d convinced myself you could never love me after that anyways and what was the harm in doing it again, just one more time? It wasn’t like I could come back from doing it. It was just – the worst decision of my life, Steve. The worst decision. God, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She called you baby,” Steve said softly, eyes wet. Bucky grimaced. “You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>seeing</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, Buck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Bucky shook his head firmly. “No, I wasn’t. It was – maybe five times. She’d call me and I’d go, because there was no way I could save this. But every time it was over, I’d think about you and about how much you loved me. About everything you’d torn down to keep me safe. How could I do that to you? Every time, I told myself it was the last one because you didn’t deserve that. But after a while, I’d convince myself it was me that didn’t deserve you. And the whole fucking cycle repeated itself.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought –” Steve paused and looked down, embarrassed. He sighed and laid his head back down on Bucky’s chest. “I thought we were happy, I guess. I didn’t know…maybe I shoulda made you feel like I need you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart,” Bucky pulled Steve’s face up with a knuckle under his chin. “You make me so goddamn happy. This? That’s my fault. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we gonna do, Buck?” Steve asked forlornly. “How are we gonna be happy together? I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…I guess we need to figure out what we want, don’t you think? We need to decide if we’re going to try and get past it, or if maybe we want to talk to some lawyers.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Lawyers?” Steve repeated sharply, sitting up. Bucky frowned, looking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For if you decide you maybe don’t wanna get past it. If maybe you wanna – think about divorce instead.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d understand, Steve. I won’t fight you on it – you can have the house, the job, the friends. I’m the one that blew this up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Bucky. We’re not getting divorced. I took a vow, same as you – we’re in it to the end of the line.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky let out a burst of air, relief flooding his chest. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart. I’m on board, a hundred percent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Steve said firmly, settling back against Bucky’s chest. “Then we need a plan. So we can be together. It’s – hard. To look at you and not think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And god, didn’t that just twist a knife in Bucky’s heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go to therapy. I know we’ve both gone before, but neither one of us wants our heads shrunk. I think a relationship coach or couples counselor instead. Not a psychiatrist,” Bucky offered gently. Steve looked apprehensive, both of them having had poor experiences with shrinks before. “It won’t be like work, right? Because this person won’t be able to take our job away if we’re having trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Steve agreed. “We can try. I’ll try anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we can do date nights too? I wanna take you out. Treat you right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds nice,” Steve confessed softly. His face flushed as he looked sideways, avoiding eye contact. “I think – maybe we shouldn’t have sex for a while. If that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky bit his lip, heart squeezing. Touching Steve, making him feel good, was important to Bucky – but not more important than Steve’s comfort or happiness. “If that’s what you want, I’m all for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just think I don’t want to for a while. The last couple of months have been, um, bad. I – don’t like how it felt.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That thought slammed into Bucky like a truck, knocking the wind from his lungs. Of course – of course it had been bad for Steve. For Bucky, the endless stream of enthusiastic, athletic sex had been a revelation – a new chapter in his favourite way to show love, sexy and intimate. For Steve, those same moments had been born out of desperation, anxiety, and insecurity. The thought of how he’d enjoyed it so much made Bucky feel sick to his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We – we can try again when you’re ready, okay, sweetheart? Or we won’t, it’s okay if that doesn’t come back for you. I love </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Steve, not our sex life.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Steve breathed, relieved. “I love you, Buck, I do – I just don’t feel good about having sex because we’re supposed to. My head is all wonky.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll have sex when you’re good and ready, and not a moment sooner, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They let things settle in the week following the confrontation of Bucky’s affair. They didn’t talk about it and didn’t talk much to each other. Quick ‘morning’s and ‘good day at work?’s were the extent of their conversation, mostly prompted by Bucky attempting to engage with Steve like the video’s said. To show he cared about Steve’s day, his well-being – his life. But Steve offered mostly one-word answers and shrugs, not that Bucky blamed him at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve spent all week pulling long hours at the tower, coming home only for reheated dinners and to sleep fitfully in the guest bedroom. He spent the first night at Nat and Sam’s, claiming it was a closer commute for an early meeting on Monday, though it felt like the first day of a separation to Bucky. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky, who spent each night trying and failing to fill the desperate role Steve had played for months -- devoted and unflinchingly attentive husband. He made dinners - Steve’s favourites - and maintained the high standard of spotlessness that Steve had curated in their home, which felt a little like duty and a lot like penance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so fucking quiet in a house they’d filled with chatter, laughter, and love but Bucky couldn’t bear to break it. He found himself turning to books instead of television, heating food in the oven instead of the microwave, wearing heavy socks instead of his soled slippers. For all the pointed silence Steve offered, it felt like a betrayal to break it on Bucky’s part. Hard conversations could wait until Steve was ready to speak at all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, it was Friday night and they were staring down the barrel of an uninterrupted forty-eight hours together without the buffer of spending all day at work and all evening preparing for the next day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky was tentatively optimistic, having researched a few well-regarded couples counselors and an individual counselor for himself. He wasn’t under any illusions that the only thing he needed to work on was his marriage;  if he was emotionally healthy, he’d never have considered the possibility of looking outside of Steve for any sort of emotional or sexual comfort. He needed his head shrunk, whether he liked it or not.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve, however, was doing his level best to avoid being in the same room with him. Not in any way that would be obvious; instead, just keeping himself busy to keep Bucky from getting his attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” Bucky pleaded as his husband fled the kitchen when Bucky walked in, leaving the sink draining with half their breakfast dishes still set to be washed. “Come on, sweetheart, we gotta talk a little more. We gotta make plans on how to fix this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to get started on shoveling the walkway, Buck, you know it ices up if we leave it sitting there snowy. Especially considering we might get rain tomorrow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll deal with the walkway, Steve,” Bucky sighed, stepping in front of the kitchen doorway to block Steve’s escape. “What’s wrong? How come you don’t want to look at shrinks with me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do, I’m just busy,” Steve insisted, trying to dart around Bucky’s arm as he blocked the doorway. “There’s a lot to do around the house.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s not,” Bucky argued. “I know that because you’ve been on top of every possible thing that needs doing around here for months. So what’s the deal, sweetheart? Let’s work on it together.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s no ‘deal’, Bucky, come on.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve fixed him with a glare to beat all other glares and crossed his arms defensively. “I don’t need a shrink to tell me I ain’t good enough for you, Barnes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That threw him through a serious loop, considering Bucky had been searching for counselors who specifically dealt well with issues of self-worth and how to value a partner. He knew he wasn’t valuing Steve enough in their marriage and that was something he needed to work on. “Not good enough for me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know what we talked about. How you think it’s not my fault. But the reality is that if you were happy with me, you wouldn’t be slipping it to somebody else. If that’s because I don’t put out enough, or I don’t have tits, or I don’t take care for you enough – or, I don’t know, fuck, if I’m just a boring lay, I don’t care. I’m tired. And I’m not gonna force you to love me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Bucky trailed off, blood racing through his veins and pounding in his ears. “Yeah, I did. You think a therapist is gonna force me to love you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Go to some stuffy office once a week until you agree not to stick it to anyone else?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Bucky breathed. Steve’s chest was puffed up, his eyes flashing with rage. “Jesus. I – am going to Sam’s. Before one of us says something we shouldn’t. Something we can’t take back.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, to ‘Sam’s’, huh?? Guess it wasn’t as </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you thought.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky didn’t validate that comment with a response, choosing instead to slam the door behind him as he fled. But the minute he stepped out the door and onto the snowy path Steve had been so concerned with clearing, all the anger deflated inside him like a popped balloon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He thought about the video he’d watched the other night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With a great sigh, he grabbed a shovel and began working methodically along the front steps and the stone path that lead to the garage, shoveling great heaps of snow out of his path like he could fix everything if the walkway was just right, done just perfectly. It took no more than ten minutes, particularly because there had been barely two inches of snow overnight, though Steve was right – it would ice like hell if they left it to be rained on.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he was finished, he stomped off his boots on the mat in front of the door and then stepped inside.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve was sitting on the couch, obviously still fuming but also choking back tears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky sat down in the armchair across from him and wiped a hand down his face, taking a few tears of his own with it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You may need to be the bad guy here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You yell at me as much as you like, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>:  :  :  :</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You ruined everything. We were happy. We were </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy</span>
  <em>
    <span>, Bucky.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You made me feel disgusting. You made me feel hideous and boring and impotent.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She called you ‘baby’. I can’t even look at you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I whored myself out to you, my own fucking husband, to feel like I was worth something to you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every time you touch me, I think about you fucking her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What? Did you miss pussy? Are we gonna do this again in a couple years? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. I love you. Why don’t you love me? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every time you set your phone facedown on the table, I wonder what she’s sent you. What you’ve sent her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You know what it’s like to see pictures of your husband’s slut on his phone? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you came home to wash her pussy off your cock before you slipped it to me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You ever make me suck her pussy off your dick? You ever make me taste her?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I hated it. I hated fucking you after I knew. And it wasn’t even enough to make you stop.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s wrong with me? What’s this goddamn science experiment of a body good for if I can’t even keep you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I should have known. I should have known. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How can we come back from this, huh? You’ve ruined this. It’s ruined.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How could you fuck her and then look me in the eye? How can I ever trust you again?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every time you’re late home from work, I’ll wonder where you’ve been.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>God, Bucky. God. We got </span>
  </em>
  <span>married</span>
  <em>
    <span>. I – I’m a goddamn idiot. How could you love me? Look at you. I’m a fucking wreck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Therapy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was also the only place Bucky was able to coax the big things, the horrible-terrifying-heartbreaking things, out of Steve. He thought it was probably more because Steve viewed their couples therapy as an assignment more than it was because Steve felt more comfortable with buffer. He approached therapy like a mission, but it worked, so they kept going.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But Steve wasn’t the only one therapy was working for, Bucky knew. It was obvious to him that time spent talking through his own issues was proving worthwhile. He’d been forced to look at the ugly parts of himself and realize that maybe a cataclysmic event like his own infidelity was some sort of foregone fucking conclusion, given the near constant tragedy of his life coupled with his refusal to admit any sign of weakness. Therapy had helped him learn that accepting comfort wasn’t a sin, nor was asking for it when he needed it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he’d learned that comfort wasn’t always a kiss on the cheek or a hug or being held while he cried. Sometimes accepting comfort required putting himself in a position to accept appreciation. It meant cooking Steve dinner because he deserved it and soaking up the happy smile he received in return that said </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you, I love you, my day is better because you’re in it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His private therapist taught him how to interact with Steve in a way that, yes, opened him up to possible rejection but also allowed him to see that rejection wasn’t the only option on the table. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their couples therapy helped Bucky realize that Steve wasn’t the well-adjusted, self-sufficient paragon of strength that Bucky had woken to every day for seven years and she helped Steve realize that it was okay for that to be true. It was enlightening as hell to hear Steve say things like “I’m worried about being too big and clunky to be sexy for you” and “I’m sorry if I was too overbearing” and “would it be better if I didn’t bother you with, like, needing touch time so often? Is it annoying for you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It broke his fucking heart, but at least it gave him insight into Steve’s mindset. Helped him see that Steve thought he loved too much for Bucky, that his needs were too big of a request. It also gave him the opportunity to counter Steve’s private fears and assumptions, to offer responses that made it very clear that Bucky was very much in love but struggling on his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And both his own therapist and their couples therapist had been firm with him that being sorry he got caught and being sorry he hurt Steve were two very different things. The video he’d watched right after their initial talk had said the same. So he tried to show Steve through endless conversations and through careful actions that he cared about his husband, not about the fallout. He checked the tires on Steve’s bike, he made breakfast with tea instead of coffee because Steve liked tea in the winter, he hung up the wedding photo that had sat forgotten in their closet for a year since they moved. Little by little, he watched shy smiles start to spread once more across his favourite face in the world.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The winter was hard. Therapy was hard. Reconciliation was hard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Loving Steve with actions as well as words? It was like riding a bike.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The few months following his breakdown and subsequent one-sided screaming match with Bucky were the most difficult of Steve’s life. If he thought war and aliens and Hydra and a love that didn’t remember him were bad – it was only because he hadn’t yet lived half a year with a husband who’d chosen someone else. It was hell – it was therapy alone, therapy with Bucky, a thousand awkward moments that should have felt normal, constant check-ins, fights he couldn’t win because his opponent refused to take a metaphorical swing, fights he lost because they were against himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He spent a good deal of time sitting quietly with Bucky one couch cushion away, feeling like he couldn’t shout loud enough to bridge the distance between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And the worst of it was this: the person he wanted to turn to for comfort was the one person he needed to be comforted over. Bucky was, had been, and always would be the most important person in Steve’s life and he knew none of that would change. It didn’t matter if they got divorced or stayed together and lived the rest of their days as heartbroken roommates – Bucky would be there and so would Steve. It wasn’t something they agreed on, it just was. Them. Together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>To the end of the line</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve went back and forth a hundred times thinking of their friends, of the Avengers team that had grown and morphed and eased more into family than a professional team. Bucky in his infinite willingness to bear all potential fallout whether it needed to happen or not encouraged Steve to talk to Sam or Natasha or even Pepper. He thought Steve needed a friend and not just a therapist, or a couples counselor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve, on the contrary, felt sick with shame at the thought of bringing up the topic of Bucky’s infidelity with someone he cared for. It was enough that Bucky had humiliated him by stepping outside their marriage. Steve didn’t think he could bear the thought of telling Natasha that Bucky found a woman sexier than him, or Sam that his husband was unsatisfied at home. Logically, he knew that was exactly the sort of thought that would get him scolded by his therapist and Bucky. In his heart, he didn’t give a flying fuck.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So on a coffee date with Sam one day in the late spring, some two and a half months or so after Steve and Bucky’s disastrous breakfast on the couch, Steve found himself trying and failing to lie through his teeth to his best friend.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nat’s been thinking about another kid,” Sam sighed into his foamy cappuccino. He tipped his head back and stared directly into the sun, not seeming to care that his dramatics were a bit much for a Starbucks patio in April. “For a lady who once told literally all of us that love is for children, she sure seems keen on hoarding foster kids in our frankly tiny fucking house.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You have five bedrooms. In Manhattan,” Steve observed mildly. Sam had a tendency to be a bit fatalistic now that he and Natasha had adopted several children and registered with the state as foster parents. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sam groaned. “And six kids. The baby’s bunking with us and we’ve got the twins in bunk beds for now but that won’t last more than a couple years. We need a bigger house but if we move, Nat’s gonna keep stacking kids in there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe you can figure out some sort of system where half of them go to school in the day and half at night so you can rotate their bedrooms in shifts.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t even suggest that shit, man, she might hear you. Anyway, I think that’s what they do in child labour factories.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Steve grinned as Sam jammed an entire cakepop in his mouth. “At least the baby sleeps through the night now. Give you guys a little peace.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t get me started, Cap,” Sam groaned. “I haven’t gotten laid in three weeks. Apparently it’s ‘creepy’ and ‘traumatizing’ to get it on with a four-month-old infant sleeping across the room. The en-suite shower is now my most regular sexual partner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve flushed and looked down at his coffee, embarrassed. Sam hadn’t had sex with his wife in a handful of weeks, but Steve hadn’t had sex with his husband since January. Almost three full months. To top it off, he hadn’t even managed to get hard since he asked Bucky for a hiatus on sex until they got their heads on straight. And god, it hadn’t been for lack of trying – unfortunately, his inability to maintain an erection didn’t mean he didn’t want it, didn’t feel it in his veins when Bucky came to bed without a shirt. It just meant he couldn’t jack off for all the tea in England.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Sam exclaimed, suddenly looking thrilled with himself. “We do things for each other. As friends. Bros being bros.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not having sex with you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross,” Sam protested with a grimace. “I meant that maybe you and Barnes could come stay at our place for the weekend and Nat and I could maybe get a hotel…cheat on the showerhead?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve winced at Sam’s wording and frowned.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He and Bucky, stuck together in a house of needy children, sounded like the last thing on earth they needed right now. They were walking a very delicate line that separated reconciliation from divorce, a word both of them treated like saying it out loud could invoke its powers and destroy them. Adding any additional chaos to their fragile life together felt like enough to tip the scales.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Steve admitted, picking at the lid of his cup. “We’re, uh, going through some stuff right now so it’s not a great time. You know I would if I could.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Going through some stuff?” Sam asked, suddenly concerned. He sat upright and leaned in to listen, the perfect friend as always. “Everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. “I hope so…it’s just our weekends are kind of full with therapy stuff. On Saturdays we both do independent therapy at 10am, then lunch, then couples counseling. And on Sundays we try to do the exercises they give us – ‘build a love map’ or ‘honesty hour’, stuff like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I had no idea, man,” Sam said. He looked at Steve earnestly and asked, “How’s it going for you? Making progress?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Some weeks, I think so,” Steve admitted quietly. He shifted. “Other weeks I just want to go back to normal and be done with it. I don’t know. It’s really hard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve paused and considered for a moment, skin prickly and uncomfortable. “Not good. But I’m working on it and Bucky’s being really helpful. He’s working really hard, we both are. We both – we both want it to work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you haven’t – you’re not considering separation, then?” Sam was possibly the best friend Steve had ever had or would ever have. He was so damn nice and always so concerned for the people he cared about. It made Steve’s heart clench with gratitude.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess…not at the moment? We’ve talked a couple of times about lawyers and what would happen if we – if we got divorced. It just made us both cry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn,” Sam sighed, gripping Steve’s forearm comfortingly. “I won’t push you on the nitty gritty, man, but I’m always available if you need to talk. You know I love both of you guys.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. And – I don’t want to ask, considering – but could you, maybe, not mention this to Nat?” Steve asked, feeling guilty for asking Sam to keep something from his wife. It was half the reason he and Bucky were in this mess to begin with. “It’s just, I know she’ll make a big deal out of it and I’d rather not get into details. It’s not something I want a team opinion on, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not. Not my secret to tell,” Sam assured him. “But, hey – you know she loves you guys. If she finds out on her own, she won’t bother you with anything but worry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled and took a long swig of his coffee, watching Sam follow suit and abruptly change the subject to the terrible redesign Tony had done on his wings, giving Steve an easy out and a fun new topic to tease him about in one breath.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can do this,” Bucky declared confidently, staring down at the new patio chaise on their back deck like he wasn’t afraid of it or what it represented. They could do this. They were supersoldiers – they’d fought and won wars, saved entire cities and countries from disaster. They could do this.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What does the sheet say?” Steve asked warily. It was Sunday and Sunday meant it was therapy homework time, which always entailed one fun thing they enjoyed and one hard thing they avoided. The chaise seemed promising, though Steve didn’t doubt it could somehow be the scary part.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doc wants us to cuddle for one hour without moving,” Bucky told him. He shook their worksheet nervously and then set it down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like the thing we want to do,” Steve pointed out, picking up the discarded sheet. He read through the rest and felt his heart rate jolt into high gear. “Oh. Honestly discuss your fears, rational and irrational, and let them exist. Don’t offer false or placating reassurances. Let the fears be offered and heard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds terrible,” Bucky sighed, dreading the exercise. “But that probably means it’s going to work.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve agreed. All the exercises they’d done that felt awful in the moment had helped them a lot. Mapping out their love languages and finding them quite at odds was awful, but it helped them understand how to love each other in ways that showed it effectively. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Bucky grinned, flopping into the chaise lounger. He held out his arms and waited until Steve crumbled into his arms, snuggling in close if not a little stiffly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They laid together for a good ten minutes, Bucky stroking up and down Steve’s back with his metal arm and Steve breathing warm little puffs of air into the crook of Bucky’s neck. Just enjoying their shared space, feeling each other’s solid presence alongside their own. It was comforting, considering a year ago they slept like octopi and now spent each night with their backs facing together, firmly on their own side of the bed. They didn’t get a lot of time to just exist together anymore, and it was nice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve particularly enjoyed the familiar smell of Bucky’s ginger and amber body wash, spicy and heady. It smelled like home, like safety. It smelled kind of sexy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to go first?” Bucky asked gently. Steve nodded, nervous. “Okay, sweetheart. Uh. Jesus. My biggest, craziest fear…I think that we’re never gonna be happy again; that I messed up too badly and we’re going to be sad for the rest of our lives. It makes me feel crazy because we’re working so hard, but I’m scared it’s not going to work and we’re just going to be sad forever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sat in that for a minute, taking in the knowledge that Bucky was scared in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar at all. Steve worried about that, too. It was scary what they were going through and without an end date to work towards, it felt like a war with no hope of an end.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for telling me that,” Steve said, heeding to a previous exercise that taught them how to value each other’s work at their relationship. “My biggest fear is that you’re only staying with me because you feel like you have to. That you don’t love me or want to be married, but it’s too hard to back out now, so you’re just staying because it’s less awful than trying to leave.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s arms tightened painfully around Steve’s shoulders and the breath he drew was slow and shaky. “Okay. Thank you. I know we’re supposed to just let our fears out and not argue them, so I won’t argue. I’ll just tell you it breaks my heart hearing you think I don’t love you, Steve. But I understand and it’s okay to be scared.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s your turn,” Steve whispered, turning his face into Bucky’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Another one,” Bucky cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly beneath Steve. “I’m scared we’re never going to have sex again. I know it’s not fair of me to ask and I’m not asking, I’m just letting my fear out. I’m scared that I’m never gonna get to touch you again or hold you after we’ve made love. It’s hard for me because – remember our love language maps? Intimacy is important for me to give and receive love. But I also know it’s a point of emotional trauma for you so we won’t have sex if you’re not ready, which is more important to me, anyway. I’m just scared thinking that one day I touched you and it was the last time and I didn’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve flushed red down to his toes, suddenly abruptly aware of the seven months that had passed since they last touched each other in a more than platonic way. He wasn’t ready, still felt sick to his stomach remembering the times he’d worked tirelessly to wear out his husband in an attempt to force fidelity. He also felt a sharp terror at the thought of exposing his body at all, let alone in a sexual setting where Bucky could see his flaws and map his insecurities with touch. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t ready, but he hoped he would be soon. Bucky showed love with touch and he knew it left his husband feeling adrift to be cut off from his most natural method of love. One day.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“One of my other fears is that I’m not attractive to you; that what you find sexy is what that woman was – small, beautiful, delicate, and in need of protection. I’m big and clunky and too strong. I’m scared you’re going to leave me for her because she’s beautiful and I’m a science experiment.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart,” Bucky croaked with Steve’s head clutched in his hands like he might crush him. “Jesus. I’m sorry. I don’t – I don’t like this exercise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It sucks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It does.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun was setting in the distance, casting a warm glow over Bucky’s shiny hair. Steve felt safe and warm curled up together and shifting with the steady rise and fall of Bucky’s breaths. But he also felt hot with shame at each admission he offered up, divulging every outlandish insecurity that kept him up at night out where Bucky could hear and judge him for it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he won’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Steve reminds himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Doc said so – she said we need to be honest or we will keep drifting apart.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have another one. It’s bad,” Steve admitted quietly. Bucky hummed his encouragement. “I’m scared to let you out of my sight, like the minute you leave the house you’re gonna go fuck someone. And I’m scared when anyone texts you or calls you or comes over when I’m not home. It makes me feel crazy, Buck. Like I’m trying to control you and the only reason you’re not sleeping around is that I keep you on a tight leash. It’s not fair to think that because I know you’re working hard too and you’re being so great to me. I’m sorry I’m thinking about you like you can’t be trusted at all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I understand it,” Bucky assured him. “It’s why we’re talking about it, right? So we can realize we’re both scared and we both just miss each other. Like – well, I’m scared you’ll never believe me when I tell you how you make me feel. Like I’ll tell you that the best thing about my day is hearing about yours but you’ll think I’m lying to make you feel better. I’m scared I hurt you bad enough you’ll never believe I love you again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is sad,” Steve huffed, frustrated. “How about we just lay here and pretend like we finished the homework. Or we can go out. Get ice cream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want ice cream, sweetheart? It is hot out…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Bucky grinned as he sat up to look down at Steve’s tired face. He smoothed a wild tuft of Steve’s hair down before cupping his beard-softened cheek. Bucky always told him it was a good look on him, but he didn’t typically grow it out until winter. Bucky seemed to like the feel of it under his fingers anyways, judging by the way he was always petting Steve.. “I’m gonna get my man some damn ice cream, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled, soft and timid. “Okay. Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Some days Steve felt like things were going well and some days he wasn’t sure he’d ever look at Bucky and see someone he trusted again. He knew – </span>
  <em>
    <span>he knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> – that Bucky was faithful now and had been since he’d broken it off with the blonde woman in his texts. He knew because they did everything together, because Bucky reassured him every time he asked, and because he turned his phone upwards at the slightest worried glance Steve gave it. He was a fucking saint and Steve knew he was lucky to have a partner so invested in repairing their marriage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But some days it didn’t matter how great Bucky was about reassuring him. Some days, like today, Bucky opened a text, grinned, and set his phone face down on the countertop and Steve’s blood roared in his ears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m making that roasted veggie thing with the maple chicken tonight,” Steve said carefully from behind the mug of coffee he clutched like his life depended on it. “Are you gonna be home for dinner? Just so I know how much chicken to get out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky looked up from buttering the stack of toast he and Steve were about to put away before work and frowned. He followed Steve’s gaze to his phone, screen hidden, on the counter and understanding coloured his face. “I am, yeah – got meetings all afternoon with Stark’s weapons guys but we should be able to ride home together if you’re alright staying a little bit later. You wanna take a look?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s cheeks heated and he felt like such an asshole, staring at his husband’s phone like it held every secret he was afraid of. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course,” Bucky told him firmly, handing over the phone. “Nat just texted me a photo of the baby with a Bucky Bear. It’s cute. You know the passcode.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He did – and he’d always known it because locking their phones was more to keep their info out of the hands of fans and reporters than it was to keep each other out. Still, he opened Bucky’s messages and saw a new picture of Sam and Nat’s foster baby clutching a giant fluffy bear with a silver arm and felt domino mask. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> cute.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he sighed. He closed out of the app and felt his heart jump just a little at Bucky’s newest background, a sneaky picture of Steve himself passed out on their back deck in a chunky wool sweater and jeans. He handed the phone back. “I know you’re not – I’m sorry I’m being so crazy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not crazy,” Bucky smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You go ahead and check anytime you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Steve grinned as Bucky walked up to the table Steve was seated at, looking delectable in a pair of black fitted slacks and a crisp navy button down. He seemed to shine from the inside out and Steve was enraptured. “Um. You look really good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Bucky preened, straightening his shoulders and puffing himself up unconsciously. “Like what you see?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Steve said shyly, enjoying the little wiggle Bucky could never quite suppress when Steve flirted with him. It had been cute in 1938. It was cute now. “I mean, here you are turning heads and sitting down for a date with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, it ain’t me that’s turning heads, doll,” Bucky flirted shamelessly, giving Steve a cheeky wink that made his stomach flip. “Look at you all fancied up just for me. We’re a pretty pair, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both hid happy grins behind their menus, peaking over to sneak glances at each other and catching the other in the act nearly every time. Steve felt like he was floating, out on a date with his husband and feeling – for the first time in a year – like they belonged there together. Like they were a regular couple, going on a fancy date because they were in love.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They swallowed their weight in steak and red wine they couldn’t pronounce. Bucky held Steve’s hand across the table for a full hour while they both struggled to eat with one hand and didn’t care at all about how ridiculous they looked. Steve talked about the mission he’d just returned from. Bucky talked about maybe going away for a weekend, just them, and Steve could have cried at the normalcy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When their waitress asked about dessert, Steve hesitated and Bucky told her they’d take all the options and two spoons, please and thank you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a lot of dessert, Buck,” Steve laughed, shocked at the six plates cluttering their tiny, white-clothed table. “I didn’t know there even were this many kinds of cheesecake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, we’re celebrating, right? We deserve this.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pumpkin toffee cheesecake quickly became Steve’s new favourite food as Bucky fed him little spoons of it, smiling at him like a sap the whole time. When they were finally finished and headed home hand in hand, Bucky stopped Steve at the door to their house and grabbed his other hand to hold one in each of his own.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” he said seriously, swallowing a lump in his throat. His flesh hand shook in Steve’s as he considered his words. “Tonight was…I want to say thank you for the last year, okay? I know – I know tonight was a big night for us. Because we made it a year and neither one of us thought we could do it. It was the worst year of both our lives, but I’m so fucking thankful we spent it together. And just…you’re the whole reason I wake up every day. I’ve never loved anything like I love you. So, thank you. For being a better man than me and for loving me through things no one would have faulted you for leaving me over.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve could barely breathe for the lump in his throat, which he couldn’t seem to clear without letting his tears out. He just stared into his husband’s face and took in every curve, lash, and laugh line that made up his favourite face in the world.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that – okay?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “I know we didn’t want to make today sad, but I just…I just wanted you to know how grateful I am to have you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Steve croaked, falling into Bucky’s arms and burying his tearful face in his neck. Bucky clutched him back, both of them clinging to each other in the cold on their stoop and crying like idiots. “I love you, too, Buck. I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There, in the freezing wind of a New York January night, Steve kissed Bucky with all the soft, fumbling sweetness of a nervous first date and finally felt like they were going to be okay.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Natasha sat across from Steve in his living room, sipping a perilously full glass of red wine and watching him sharply. He twitched in his seat, tugging at his sleeves and clearing his throat several times as she stared at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t they teach you social skills in the Red Room,” he whined, crossing his arms uncomfortably. “Why is having drinks with you like having drinks with a pack of starving wolves?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t give animals alcohol, Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nat tossed her head back and laughed, loud and always surprisingly girlish considering the dangerous vibes that rolled off of her effortlessly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So Pepper watched the kids last weekend,” she offered around another very impolitely sized gulp of wine. “Sam and I went to the Berkshires.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How quaint,” Steve said dryly. “Get any antiquing done?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a bit,” she smirked. “The cabin had a hot tub and a pillow top king bed with absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> children. We destroyed that place.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gross,” Steve grimaced. “You know that’s my best friend, right? I don’t need to know about that!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hurt, Steven,” Natasha sniffed. “I thought I was your best friend. Either way, neither one of us is sitting right this week. The things that boy can do with a bottle of chocolate sauce…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you don’t.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve rolled his eyes and polished off his glass in two gulps. God help him, if Nat was in a sharing mood, he’d need a lot more of that shit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Besides, I’m trying to inspire you,” she told him with a pointed look. “You know I’m a spy, right? I can tell when you haven’t gotten any in fucking forever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blushed from his hair down to his toes, mortified. “I can’t believe the state let’s you raise a small army. Don’t they know the dangers of having six tiny Natashas running around New York?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave my budding baseball team out of this, Rogers,” Natasha ordered. “Spill. How come Bucky’s walking around HQ trembling like a stiff breeze is gonna send him on a hunt for clean boxers?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Steve whimpered, covering his face with his hands. “It’s kinda – it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nat, jeez.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you think I told you about the chocolate sauce? I’m buying leeway.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think your spy skills are getting rusty. If you want leeway, you gotta offer something I want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Nat grinned. “You’re just saying that because you’ve never seen Sam naked. You’d change your tune if you had, Frisbee boy.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh,” Steve repeated. “Look. It’s just – we had a reason not to for a long time. And now…I don’t know, it’s been so long I don’t even know how to start again. If we’re ready, or if we should yet.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you love him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,” Steve answered honestly. He did – and a year ago, he did too. But a year ago he could barely stand to see his own body in the shower, let alone let Bucky see it. He still felt awkward and self-conscious about being naked with Bucky. But Bucky had been sweet and considerate and kept his hands respectfully to himself for so long Steve had forgotten what it felt like to be touched by his own husband.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And he loves you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He does.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He practically drools after you, you know,” she told him. Steve squirmed. “I swear, you walk by him at HQ and his eyes do that sparkly heart thing like in cartoons. He’s got it bad, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Steve felt warm all over, hearing someone else tell him Bucky wanted him. Bucky told him all the time, but it was different coming from him. Of course Bucky would never say he didn’t want Steve. Nat would tell him if she thought Bucky wasn’t attracted to him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s been too long.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe? Definitely,” she said decisively. “Throw that boy some dick. Now, go get some more wine and prepare to listen to the tale of me, Sam, and the new position we invented over the weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>---</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky lay in their bed, restful but alert. He tracked Steve’s movements through their bedroom with his eyes, watching as his husband puttered through his nightly routine. That routine was different now than it had been nearly a year ago when Bucky’s infidelity came to light. Before, Steve had stripped naked before their closet to toss his clothes in the hamper, brushed his teeth and relieved himself with the door wide open for Bucky to watch him from the bed, and slipped beneath the covers to press his smooth, nude form against Bucky’s with an impish grin and wandering hands each night. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But the affair had left more invisible marks on Steve’s emotional health than just betrayal. Steve was still so anxiously modest about his body, and not only around Bucky, he’d noticed. Steve wore shirts that fit him now and was back to his old, stuffy khakis and bulky cardigans. He walked smaller, too; head tucked down and shoulders hunched inwards like he didn’t want to be seen. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was different in the privacy of their bedroom, as well. Steve’s routine before bed looked more like one of a shy college roommate now. He took his pajamas to the bathroom with him, locked the door to pee and change, and shuffled into bed to lay with his back to his husband each night. Bucky had been slowly working to change things – wheedling Steve into his arms with sweet words and gentle kisses until they managed to fall asleep holding each other close. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve in his bed – in his arms and kissing him, shy and sweet – was more than Bucky deserved, but he wanted more. He’d always wanted more, could never get enough of Steve. He’d married the best man he knew, the one who’d loved him and fought for him and nuked a perfectly fine life to keep him safe, and then he’d betrayed that man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It made Bucky feel low, lower than dirt, knowing he was the one who brought Steve to his knees and ruined what they had together. He respected that Steve wasn’t frantically turned on by his husband the same way Bucky was – after all, Steve hadn’t stepped outside their marriage to fall in bed with someone else. He understood that Steve didn’t want to press his body against Bucky’s, take him apart with lips and fingers and soft words. It still made his heart ache.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a hard year – a damn hard year. Bucky had always loved Steve almost desperately through acts of sex and tender physical worship and cutting that off, while he knew it was for Steve’s comfort, had left him bereft and adrift in their marriage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Steve’s fumbling motions through their room as he prepared for bed, Bucky was reminded of how deeply he’d hurt them both. Steve was a shell of his confident self, and Bucky’s heart was somehow both overflowing and empty. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve slipped into bed beside him, propped up just a little against the headboard, hands clasped over his stomach like he was protecting his soft, vulnerable underbelly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, curling onto his side to face Steve. “Good day?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve answered with a smile. He turned his gaze on Bucky, whose breath caught in his throat. God, he thought. God, he was beautiful. “Nat and I had lunch after we presented to Mossad and the Prime Minister. She made us go for Indian and I wanted pizza, but I had something called saag paneer. It was green. Tasty.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky huffed a laugh. “See? New food is good food, Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t believe you’ve been topside going on twelve years and never had Indian.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone always told me it’s too spicy,” Steve grumbled, slipping down the bed to better allow Bucky’s snuggling. “It’s not that bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that bad?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, it was good,” Steve relented with a huff. “Always gotta be right, huh, Buck?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, only when it’s true,” Bucky grinned and planted a kiss on Steve’s henly-clad shoulder. Steve shuffled closer to rest to his temple against Bucky’s forehead where they were curled together. “How was the briefing, then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Got some pushback about regulating what gets recorded and what doesn’t on their national security policies. You know how governments get.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grimaced – yes, he did know. “You put them in their place?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nat did. I got nervous and forgot my talking points for a minute, but she stepped in. We tag-teamed the rest.” Steve’s face pinked with the admission that he had misstepped in a presentation he’d given to fifty governments over the years. “Think she got through about citizens’ rights – more-so than we did when presenting to the fucker who runs this country, anyhow.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you did great, sweetheart,” Bucky decided, confident. Steve always did great. That was his whole thing. “And I’m sure you both made an impact. You know-- I wish I’d been there. I love watching you hand shadowy intelligence agencies their ass on a plate.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve blushed deeper pink, the flush disappearing down the buttons of his Henley. Bucky slipped a hand over Steve’s stomach and under his clasped hands, just to feel him a little. Steve shivered at the touch and bit his lip, turning his head to look at Bucky shyly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanna make out a little?” Steve asked softly, watching Bucky with shy eyes through eyelashes that would make Botticelli weep. Bucky didn’t weep, but let his eyes travel over Steve’s beautiful, uncertain face. “If you want. Nat was talking about Sam at lunch and – you know, they just got back from a trip and Pepper had the kids. She got a little braggy about their weekend away and – well, I got thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We haven’t.” Steve looked away, up to the ceiling, face hot. “Well, we haven’t. For, um, a long time. And I thought you might wanna.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t hold that against you, sweetheart,” Bucky assured him, though his heart was racing. The prospect of taking Steve into his arms and loving him like he deserved – it was enough to have him stirring in his sleep pants. “We made that choice together. I know it’s been a while, but we agreed to wait until things were really good between us. If you’re not ready, we’ll keep on waiting. I’m not gonna die of blue balls, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It hasn’t been ‘a while’, Buck,” Steve pushed. “It’s been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>year</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Time was, we couldn’t go twenty-four hours without it. And now it’s been a year.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll wait a hundred years if it means keeping that ring on your finger, Rogers.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled at him and they both looked at the gold band on Steve’s left hand. “I know. That’s why I’m sure. You’ve been so patient. Haven’t pushed me at all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I would never,” Bucky promised fervently. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Hell, I’d be happy just kissing you every morning for the rest of my life. God, I love you, you gotta know that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve tells him. “I do. So what say we give it a shot?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s heart had never pounded so loud before; he was sure Steve could hear it thumping in his chest, crazed and hopeful. The first gentle, tentative press of Steve’s lips to his had him gasping around the kiss, eyes wet and warmth flooding his body. He leaned into Steve’s kiss, fingers clenching in the soft fabric over his husband’s stomach, and earned a tiny moan for his troubles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>God – god, he’d missed this. Missed kissing his husband with any sort of intent, missed Steve’s puffs of warm breath against his collarbone, missed the feel of Steve’s big hands slipping under the back of his shirt to hold him close. God, it felt like redemption to hear the low moan pulled from Steve’s lips by a kiss below his ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky was hard in his sleep pants near instantly, but it felt secondary to the feel of Steve’s five o’clock shadow scratching against his neck as Steve sucked red marks into his skin. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby,” Steve breathed, helpless with want. “Kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me – Buck…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky choked on air, scrambling to throw back the covers and climb over Steve’s beautiful body. His fingers disappeared into Steve’s blonde hair and scratched against his scalp, their kiss deep and slow. “Sweetheart. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve's tongue slipped against his, warm and wet. His big, gentle fingers tip-toed under Bucky’s shirt to swipe over both nipples and coax whimpers in their wake. He was so hard he was seeing stars from that simple touch alone, but when Steve’s right hand slipped lower, tickling gently at his navel before slipping into his sleep pants, Bucky lost all control of himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” he begged, body trembling. Steve sighed happily against his mouth and pulled back the elastic of his briefs, fingers slipping inside to brush against Bucky’s wet cock. He cried out, feeling raw like an exposed nerve, and came immediately, humping against his husband’s hand like a dog. “Ah – ohh, Steve, oh…yes, sweetheart, yes, fuck, yes…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Steve gasped in surprise, fingers finally wrapping around Bucky’s twitching, spent cock. He gave a few slow, gentle tugs to pull Bucky through the dregs of a too-fast orgasm. Bucky shook like a leaf in his embrace, fragile and paper thin in the wind. “There you go – that’s it, baby, that’s it. How’s that feel, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god,” Bucky moaned, mortified as he collapsed against Steve’s chest, body heaving for air. “I’m so sorry, Steve, oh my god.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Steve cooed in his ear, one hand still down Bucky’s pants and one stroking down his back soothingly. “Hey, it’s been a while, like you said. It’s okay, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t come that fast since – since –” He’d never come that fast in his life, fuck. Fuck. His first chance to love on his husband in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>year</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he comes with barely a hand down his pants? “I’m sorry. I wanted…that to be better.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seems like it was pretty good, Buck,” Steve’s smile wasn’t quite a grin, but it was getting there. “Sounded like a pretty good time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“For me,” Bucky groaned. “I wanted to make you feel good. It’s been so long, Steve, I wanted it to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I wanted to – to – I don’t know. For us to come together, maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Next time, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But hey,” Bucky perked up, sitting up on Steve’s stomach. “Hey, I’ll suck you off. Lemme suck you off.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve went wiggly beneath Bucky’s hands, like he was embarrassed and wanted out. His face was pink and he couldn’t meet Bucky’s eyeline, which made Bucky’s heart do all sorts of terrible things. “Unless? Do you not want…?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I…do,” Steve admitted, shoulders hunched up by his ears. “It’s just. I don’t know…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shifted back and felt Steve’s lap, soft between his legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you come?” He hadn’t noticed…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve flushed again. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god, Steve, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered, abruptly ashamed of himself. “I thought – I thought you wanted to, fuck, I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to – to </span>
  <em>
    <span>force</span>
  </em>
  <span> you or – I’ll sleep downstairs tonight. I’m so sorry, Steve, oh my god. Oh my god –”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Steve grabbed his thigh before he could climb off the husband he’d just forced himself on, like an animal, god, he couldn’t keep it in his pants for five goddamn seconds, could he? “Stop.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry,” Steve told him, voice tense. “It’s not that. It’s just. It’s been – a while, since. Ugh.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Since I got – hard,” Steve admitted, spitting the words out like they burned. “I don’t get, um, erections. Often.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s shame took a backseat to concern for the moment. “How not often?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe three times, in the last year,” Steve confessed, not meeting Bucky’s eye. “It’s not that I don’t want to, right now. I’m just…it doesn’t work right.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Bucky processed, brow furrowed and mouth set in a stubborn line. “You don’t jerk off?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I tried. It doesn’t get hard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus – I dunno, Buck. Dr. Connelly has her theories, but – well, you know I don’t like talking about that stuff with a shrink.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s she say?” Bucky pushed, concerned. If there was anyone in the world who deserved the joys of an orgasm, it was Steve and his unending capacity for love and forgiveness.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve grunted, reluctant. “Says it’s probably ‘cause I feel – like I’m not, ugh. Do we have to talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bucky prodded gently. “You know what Dr. Linda would say. We gotta talk about the stuff that bothers us. Speak our truths or whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighed, looking down at his chest to avoid meeting Bucky’s eye. “Dr. Connelly says it might be because I feel unattractive. And unworthy of sexual pleasure. It’s probably bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s heart sank. Every day he was reminded of how badly his betrayal had messed with Steve’s head, but some days those reminders were deeper and more pervasive than others. He’d fucked Steve up enough that he couldn’t get off, even in private?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not bullshit, Steve,” Bucky murmured, leaning down to kiss Steve gently. “You’ve always been the sexiest thing in the world to me. It’s my fault if you feel like you don’t deserve to be loved like that. I did that to you. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms. “Does this mean we’re not gonna do it again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky watched his husband thoughtfully for a moment, considering. “Do you want to do it? If you can’t get off?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I liked it. Feeling close to you again. It was nice. But we don’t gotta, if it’s weird. What’s the point of a limp dick, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not right,” Bucky disagreed with a shake of his head. “There’s a lot of ways to fool around without an erection, you know. Having sex doesn’t mean getting off, every time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess. If you’re willing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a matter of ‘willing’, sweetheart,” Bucky grinned. “Don’t think there’s been a minute since 1931 that I haven’t wanted to get my hands on you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> – that made Steve flush pink in a pretty way, much to Bucky’s delight.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Steve grumbled. “If you’re so sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Bucky declared, patting both hands down on Steve’s hard stomach affectionately. “Now, I believe I said something about sucking on that pretty cock of yours?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And even pinker Steve went, shy and delighted at Bucky’s affection. He nodded with big eyes, watching as Bucky scooted down the bed to tug at Steve’s pajamas gently, exposing first the plump globes of his ass against the sheets, and then the warm, soft cock snug between his thighs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There we go,” Bucky whispered, mouth watering. Oh, how he’d missed this. How he’d longed to taste his husband once more. “Beautiful.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s – </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Steve protested weakly, embarrassed. Bucky ran his index finger down the smooth length of Steve’s flaccid penis, tickling his balls for a moment before lifting the length of it to rest limp against his abdomen. “You can – you can suck it if you want, but I probably won’t be able to…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, the journey’s half the fun,” Bucky grinned up at his husband. “I don’t care if you get hard so long as you’re having a good time, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky leaned into the crease of Steve hip where thigh met pelvis, drinking in the scent of his husband’s sex for the first time in a year. He’d meant what he said – touching Steve and loving him was more important than a measly orgasm. Steve deserved to be handled with love and affection, deserved to feel sexy. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He licked a slow stripe up Steve’s cock from base to tip, enjoying the gasp of air Steve sucked in at the sensation. He rolled heavy, loose balls in his hand before sucking each one into his mouth, one at a time to lave his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Steve tasted like sweat and scent-free soap, just the same as always. Oh, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> this. Had always loved this, from the minute they took up together when they were fifteen years old.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sucked the tip of Steve’s limp cock into his mouth, moaning around the head at the taste. Steve’s hips twitched with a sigh, but he didn’t pull away. Bucky was gentle – gentler than he’d be if Steve was hard – as he sucked and slurped and stretched Steve’s beautiful cock, pausing every so often to suck as his balls.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels nice,” Steve breathed, watching Bucky with awe. “You like it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it,” Bucky slurred, mind buzzing with arousal. Steve liked it, he thought. He liked it, he liked it, he liked it. There was something heady about giving his husband pleasure that always made Bucky go a little dizzy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He sucked two fingers into his mouth alongside Steve’s dick and wet them well. The press of a finger between Steve’s cheeks made him jump, then sigh a soft “yeah”, as Bucky pressed inside. He ducked low to swirl his tongue along the clench of Steve’s hole around his fingers, making both of them moan.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you,” Steve started and stopped, biting his lip. “Can you suck me again?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course I can,” Bucky murmured. Steve cock, when soft, was about the length of Bucky’s palm. Hard, he could barely cover it, wrist to fingertip. He sort of liked the flex of a limp penis, though – it was fragile, sweet and vulnerable beneath his mouth and hands. He suckled at the tip again, using his metal fingers to massage just beneath the head like he knew Steve liked.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve sighed happily, watching Bucky’s lips. “Feels good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky hummed and continued his ministrations, enjoying the sweet sounds he could pull from his husband. He wasn’t in any rush – Steve wasn’t getting hard and, to Bucky, that just meant there was no expiration date on this blowjob. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Steve whimpered as Bucky tapped against his prostate gently. “You’re so sweet to me, Buck. You’ve been so good to me this year – made me feel safe and warm and important. It coulda been – it coulda been so much harder, baby. But you love me. And you’re helping me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I do love you, Steve, I do,” Bucky told him, pulling off to speak. He replaced his mouth with his hand, cradling Steve’s vulnerable sex protectively. “I’ve never doubted for a day that you loved me, sweetheart, and I’ll never give you a reason to doubt my love again either. I love you. I love you…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stroked inside Steve gently and continuously, matching the pace of his lips over soft flesh. Steve’s body tensed, contracting around Bucky’s fingers inside him and pulling a gasp from his lips. Bucky held Steve’s cock in his mouth, suckling gently as his husband rolled his hips through the closest approximation of an orgasm he was likely to have that night.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled off reluctantly when Steve began to whimper against the sensitivity, hands coming down to cup himself protectively, one over the other between his legs. Bucky slipped his fingers free slowly, petting over Steve’s hole twice before wiping his hands on the sheet and sliding up to kiss his husband.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How you feeling, huh?” he asked, kissing away a tear on Steve’s cheek. “Doing okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Doing okay,” Steve agreed, breath hitching just a little. “That was real nice, Buck. Real nice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky stroked him through the trembling Steve always got when he was a little worked up after sex, soothing him with gentle touch and soft words whispered in his ear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I really liked that, Steve,” Bucky breathed against Steve’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex that surrounded them. He closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of Steve’s naked stomach pressed against his own, rolling his body just to feel the slide of skin on skin. “I missed you, sweetheart. I missed you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby,” Steve sighed into Bucky’s hair, happy and warm. “My baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s – yeah, let’s take off our shirts to sleep, okay?” Steve said, wiggling beneath Bucky’s prone form. “We can snuggle a bit, keep each other warm. Like we did before the war, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bucky smiled, shrugging out of his t-shirt while Steve wrestled his Henley over his own broad shoulders. “’Course I remember. ‘Course I do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hey, get down here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna go change my pants,” Bucky called over his shoulder as he shuffled off the bed. “On account of how I shot off in my drawers like a virginal teenager.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve snorted, but kept a keen eye on Bucky’s ass as he shoved his briefs and flannel pants down at once, biting his lip as Bucky used his soiled underwear to finish cleaning himself up before tossing the lot in the hamper. He pulled on a pair of cotton boxers instead, wanting to feel as much of Steve’s skin as possible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky climbed into bed and settled back against Steve’s bare chest with a hum. “Warm.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Steve grinned. “Got me all hot and bothered tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go for dinner tomorrow. Date night.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You betcha, Rogers,” Bucky pressed a kiss to Steve’s sternum. “Any place you’d like.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Six days after their first fumbled attempt at sex-- what Bucky had privately labeled D Day in his mind--, they were still vibrating with the high of their shared intimacy, and resolutely unable to complete daily tasks separately. It felt like they’d just started dating again – wandering hands, stolen kisses, whispered affections…Bucky was frantically, contagiously happy and he knew Steve was riding the wave in much the same way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could tell from the rich red jacket Steve wore over a tight white tee with a pair of jeans Bucky had once described as indecently fitted. It was one of Steve’s ‘feeling sexy’ outfits and for a damn good reason – namely, the way it broadened his giant shoulders and chest but tapered his dainty little waist. It made him look like sex on legs and he knew it, which is why Bucky found himself salivating in the dry goods aisle of a Whole Foods like some sort of lecherous hound.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” he whined, plastered against his husband’s firm back far too closely for a public setting. Steve picked up a box of chickpea fusilli and read the nutritional information on the bottom like either of them cared one damn bit about portion sizes or gluten free anything. “Sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think white or red sauce is better with this?” Steve asked, holding out the box. Bucky looked at it and could barely conceive the words printed on the front. He gaped uselessly and Steve put the box into the cart with a shrug. “I think probably a garlic, herb, and butter sauce. With parmesan. Oh, we should get parmesan.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Parmesan,” Steve repeated innocently. “For the pasta.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The pasta.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve reached up to scratch the back of his neck as if he didn’t know damn well that his shirt was riding up to reveal the red elastic of his boxer briefs and a whole row of gorgeous abs. “Yeah, baby, for dinner.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We can order in,” Bucky suggested urgently. “We should go home and make out in the hammock.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s almost February.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“In front of the fire, then. On the rug.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve laughed, face a little pink from the attention but otherwise looking every bit the sweet slice of American hero he was. Like he knew he was gorgeous and Bucky was barely holding on beside an 8-foot shelf stocked with vegan pasta. It looked amazing on him and did absolutely nothing to help Bucky regain control of himself or make a valid argument in favour of starvation so he could feel up his husband in peace.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How about we finish the list, huh? We just need lemons, bananas, and – why did you write a winky face beside cucumbers? Oh,” Steve groaned, rolling his eyes and heaving a long-suffering sigh. “Buck. Cucumbers? C’mon.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky grinned at him rakishly and winked. The blush that pinked Steve’s cheeks sent a thrill up his spine. “Okay, Rogers, let’s get the dang produce so we can go home and french like God intended.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They rounded the aisles into the open produce area hand in hand, Steve expertly steering the bursting cart with one hand. His hand felt good in Bucky’s, warm and dry, and he thought to himself that this was probably the most purely happy day they’d had in over a year. It was a revelation to look sideways at his husband and be met with a grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve reached into the big tub of lemons and inspected a few before deciding on the three fattest ones, which he deposited into the little reusable mesh bag he had browbeaten Bucky into buying years ago so as to avoid disposable plastic ones. Bucky dutifully fastened the clasp and dumped them into the cart, already looking for the banana stand so they could finish up and head home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Spotting the bananas, he tugged the front of the cart to direct Steve and looked back over his shoulder to make sure Steve had followed him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he saw Steve standing hunched and pale at the lemons, shrunken down, staring across the bin at a woman sorting through a handful of limes. The woman looked up and Bucky’s heart sank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“James?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Fuck – fuck, oh fuck, he had to get Steve out of here. He stood frozen beside the bananas, gripping the cart’s basket so tightly it cracked under his metal fingers. She skirted the bin that separated herself and Steve, bopping over to Bucky with a small smile on her face.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anya,” he choked out. He unconsciously tugged the cart between them as though she might try to hug him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so glad I ran into you,” she smiled. Steve stood behind her, stock still and staring down at the floor with his lips pressed into a hard line. “How are you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m – Steve, sweetheart,” Bucky stammered, snapping out of his trance and reaching around her for his husband’s hand. Steve moved beside him as if on autopilot, his shoulders still tense and shrunken. “Steve, this is Anya. Anya, this is my husband, Steve.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Anya’s bright face darkened seriously and she looked down at her feet for a moment before extending a hand to Steve. He looked down at her tiny hand and crossed his arms over his ribs as if hugging himself. She dropped her hand and tucked both behind her back awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” she said softly, looking up at Steve’s ashen face. “Could I – would you mind terribly if asked to talk to you privately for a moment?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve shrugged and turned his face to Bucky’s, timid and wide-eyed. “I don’t….I don’t know if it’s a good idea?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Steve, I promise I’ll only take a moment,” she pleaded. “I just have some things I want to say to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” Steve relented. He tugged on the hem of his t-shirt and grabbed the edges of his jacket to pull it tighter around himself. Bucky’s heart broke all over again watching him try to shrink himself down into a convenient shape. “Buck…can you go to the cash, I guess?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, sweetheart. I love you,” he said firmly before pressing a kiss to Steve’s pale cheek. “I’ll meet you at the car, okay? Just text me if you need me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving Steve in that Whole Foods was damn near the hardest thing Bucky had done in his entire life, but he respected Steve enough to let him make that decision no matter how much it scared him. Waiting in the car was going to prove to be the longest ten minutes he’d ever experienced.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stared down into the pretty, serious face of the woman who had stolen his husband – </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He stopped himself, remembered everything he’d talked about in counseling with Bucky over the last year. She didn’t steal Bucky. They both made mistakes, but she wasn’t evil just the same as Steve wasn’t unlovable. She was just a woman who had made a mistake. There was no reason to be inherently terrified of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve,” she said softly. “Thanks for talking to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been wanting to reach out for a while. I didn’t think it was appropriate, so I’ve put it off a good while. I owe you the sincerest of apologies,” she told him, looking down at the floor so he couldn’t see her face from where he stood a good eight inches taller than her slight frame. She was so tiny and delicate. It made him feel bulky and awkward. “I’ve spent a lot of the last year in therapy, and a lot of time in support groups for people who have cheated. It’s been…hard. Really hard. I’ve learned a lot about myself and about how I have hurt people without considering that it was even possible for me to do so. I treated you – and James – like you didn’t have feelings or a life that I could hurt. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Steve whispered, still hugging himself tightly, fingers digging into his ribs painfully. She smiled sadly at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it doesn’t help, but I really am. James is a good man and I took advantage of his kindness to make myself feel better. It wasn’t fair to him, or you, or me.” Anya shuffled her feet and looked up at him, holding eye contact stubbornly. “I didn’t even think about what life might be like for you, after. I – I met someone, at a support meeting. Jeff. His wife…she was unfaithful their whole marriage and it just, it broke him. We’ve been together about six months and I never knew how hard it could be for someone on the other side. For you. It makes me sick to my stomach to know that I did to you what his wife did to him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s best efforts were not enough to stop the tear that spilled over his lash line and down his cheek. He wiped it away furiously, angry about showing any weakness to this woman. “It doesn’t change anything. Bucky…he still did it. So did you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” she said sorrowfully. “I’ll never forgive myself. But can I tell you something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither will he,” she told him gently. Steve frowned. “The night he came to break it off, did he ever tell you about it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. He said he loved me and it was a mistake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Steve. There’s – you should know there’s more to it than that. When he broke it off, I’ve never seen someone so distraught in my life. He was a wreck. He told me that a world where he had hurt you was one he could barely survive living in, but that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make you happy. He loves you so much more than I think you know.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oh. Somehow, standing in a grocery store listening to the woman who’d crept into his marriage tell him about his husband, Steve had never loved Bucky more. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He took a shaky, fortifying breath and wiped both hands over his face to clear the anxiety running through his veins. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m –” Steve huffed out a laugh “– Thank you, I think. This…was hard, but I think it was hard for you too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was. But it was worth it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They smiled tired little smiles at each other.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t…forgive you,” Steve told her honestly. She nodded. “But I don’t hate you, either. I did for a long time. But, I spent this year in therapy, too, and I know you’re just a person who made mistakes, and hurt me in the process. Took me a long time to realize it wasn’t because I’m not good enough. It just...it happened and it was awful. But all we can do is move on and not let it destroy us, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay. I’m going to go home and cook dinner with my husband and have a really great evening. Thanks. For talking to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you for letting me,” Anya smiled. This time when she stuck out her hand, Steve shook it and didn’t feel like a bumbling oaf when her tiny hand slotted into his giant one. “I hope you guys are really happy together. Truly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve smiled and thought to himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>we really are</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky had nearly picked through the skin of his cuticles with the anxiety of waiting for Steve at the car, but his heart leapt with joy when he saw Steve’s blond head above the crowd of other grocery shoppers. Steve made a beeline for the car, stepping around little old ladies with mini carts, loose toddlers, and couples too in love to watch where they were walking. He could feel his pulse in his brain, searching Steve’s face for a sign of what his talk with Anya had entailed. It was obvious he’d cried, which broke Bucky’s heart, although he figured it was a given when coming face to face with the woman your husband had slept with.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked up from dodging a dancing toddler and met Bucky’s eye. When he did, his face broke out into a grin and took Bucky’s already-laboured breath away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, he was so fucking beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey -,” Bucky tried to get out by way of a greeting, but was stopped by the full force of Steve Rogers kissing him like they’d been separated a thousand years. He sank into it, letting his lower lip be sucked between Steve’s and bitten possessively. Steve’s hands clutched into his hair and their bodies pressed together from knees to lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Steve laughed joyfully when they pulled apart. Bucky sucked in air, trying to get his footing back after a kiss that knocked him well off balance. “I love you. God, you are so fucking sexy right now. Kiss me again.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Bucky floundered, body hot and hands shaking. Steve nipped and sucked at the skin under his ear with delicious little gasps. “Oh – I love you. I love – what’s happening?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss me.” And he did, happily, because kissing Steve was a precious privilege he did not take lightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart. Your talk with – your talk went okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Steve said, breathless. “She said sorry. She told me about the night you broke it off. God, you smell good today. Lemme taste you, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bucky gasped, trying to get his bearings. Steve continued to writhe against his thigh, desperate. “Okay. Okay, this is graduating quickly from parking lot appropriateness. We should go, right? We should go home? Because we’re gonna –?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I hear there’s a fireplace with a very comfy rug there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Christ on toast, Bucky was going to die before they got home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thank fuck it was nearly February, Bucky thought as they crashed through the door of the house with no thought given to the week’s worth of groceries in the trunk of their car. He thought hysterically about the bananas that might go brown in the cold as Steve’s lips sucked a dozen desperate hickeys into his collarbone, his breaths coming in tiny whimpers. Both of their hands were frantic and trembling, smoothing over hard planes and clutching fistfuls of clothing like they couldn’t wait to tear it all off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby,” Steve panted, riding Bucky’s thigh on their stumbled path to the living room. Shit, Bucky prayed for restraint. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d forgotten the delicious whine of Steve’s voice when he was turned on. It made his mouth water. “Take it off, baby, let me at you – god, look at you, god…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky shrugged off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants just enough to ease the pressure before wrestling Steve out of that sexy red jacket. He immediately went for the pebbled pink nipples visible through Steve’s skin-tight white tee, luxuriating in the spit-slick shine of Steve’s slack mouth as he moaned and panted. They tumbled to the floor in front of the fireplace, not bothering to light it in their haste. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at that, sweetheart, oh holy lord in heaven, look at that,” Bucky rambled. Steve’s shirt had ridden up as it caught on the carpet, exposing his taut stomach and the swell of his ribcage as it heaved with each breath. Bucky dove in face first, laving the soft skin with wet kisses just to hear Steve cry out. “Oh, you taste so good, Steve, so good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve wrested himself of his pants quickly and tackled Bucky from below, swinging a leg up and over Bucky’s hip to roll them both and come out on top. He ground his ass down into Bucky’s erection and both of them shouted with pleasure. Bucky spared a glance down at Steve’s groin, still covered with his boxer briefs, and nearly cried with joy. The clear jut of a stiff cock distending tight cotton greeted him, the tip wet and dark.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, oh god,” he gasped, running a hand over Steve’s clothed erection. He grinned up at his husband, enjoying the pleased twitch of his hips at the touch. “Look at that, look at you – god, I love your cock, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Get it out. Get it out, get it – touch it, baby, come on – touch me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky’s right hand slipped under the band of Steve’s briefs and gripped him firmly, rolling the once-familiar foreskin back and thumbing over the head to Steve’s apparent delight. God, it felt good to experience the hot slide of skin over his husband’s erection – he slid his hand down the length again and dropped his head back onto the floor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Steve cried, rolling his hips into Bucky’s tight fist. “Yes, baby, please –”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna come?” The thought made Bucky’s brain a little crazy with want.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, gonna come.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Do it, Steve, c’mon – come all over my stomach, give it to me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve cried out and threw his head back, huge ribcage expanding and deflating with each desperate pant and stomach clenching tight before Bucky’s eyes. He pulled Steve’s cock out of his underwear to watch him come. The whole thing was pink and wet, balls drawn up so tight he could barely see them. With every pass of Bucky’s thumb over the tip Steve choked out a shout until his body went tight with pleasure and his cock jerked and spilled over Bucky’s stomach to settle in thick, white pools.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ, Steve, that’s it, that’s it,” he encouraged as Steve’s hips rolled and jerked through the longest orgasm Bucky had ever wrung from him. His own cock ached between his legs, bumping against Steve’s rapidly emptying balls every few seconds and driving him fucking crazy with desire. “Oh, yes, it feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart? Feels so good to come, huh? Look at your face, oh, what a sweet thing you are…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s cries turned to sensitive whimpers as his orgasm passed and Bucky’s fingers went gentle and soft on his still-hard but reddened cock. Steve collapsed onto him, hips still rolling together against Bucky’s own erection, and kissed him within an inch of his life. God, it felt like absolution to hold Steve’s pleasure in his hands like this again. It felt like…like he was making the first step in giving Steve back the happiness he’d stolen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you,” Steve breathed into his mouth, tongues slipping together hotly. Bucky sucked his lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it just to taste Steve in his own mouth. “I love how sexy you are and how sweet you are and how – and how much you love me, baby.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“Oh,” Bucky groaned, eyes half full of tears and heart feeling too large in his chest. Steve rolled his whole body down Bucky’s, their sweat-soaked skin sliding together easily. His softening cock rubbed against Bucky’s hard one and sent a thrill down his spine. “You are – the </span><em><span>best</span></em> <em><span>thing</span></em><span> about me, Steve.”</span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The crinkles around Steve’s eyes as he grinned told Bucky more than any words could. His heart thumped hard in his chest as they kissed again, long and deep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna make you come now,” Steve told him in lieu of a response, then slipped down Bucky’s body and sucked his soul out through his cock.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As far as grocery trips went, Bucky decided, today’s had been about as successful as it possibly could have been.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Steve woke up the morning after their frantic lovemaking on the floor of the living room, he felt…different. Aware. His skin was crusty with dried come and he felt soft all over in that casual sexy way sleeping naked offered. The sheets were cool and smooth against him, making him squirm excitedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t felt sexy in so long. Long enough that thinking about Bucky’s hands on him the night previous pebbled his nipples and sent goose bumps down his chest. He raised a hand to feel the bump of one nipple, pinching gently just to feel the zing of pleasure shoot down the center of his abdomen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tracking down Bucky wouldn’t be hard, if the sound of the shower in their en-suite was any indication of his whereabouts. Steve slipped out of bed and padded into the bathroom, a little nervous of his nakedness, but excited just the same.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bucky stood with his back against the tile wall of the shower, the rain head sprinkling down on him. He was grinning to himself and soaking up the warmth, clearly having a private little moment to himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve knocked on the glass and Bucky opened his eyes to grin at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Steve said softly, a little pink. “Want company?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Always,” Bucky answered and pushed the glass door open to let Steve through, gathering him up to hold close right away. Steve’s cool, dry body pressed up against Bucky’s hot, wet one happily. “You doing good?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Feeling good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve’s hands wandered shyly over Bucky’s wet skin, slipping around his biceps and trailing down the hard planes of his chest and stomach. He scratched at the short, coarse hair above Bucky’s mostly-soft cock and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you let me take care of you?” Bucky asked. He looked so earnest Steve couldn’t possibly say no. “Wanna wash you up, get you all clean. Maybe we can get dirty again together, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds nice, Buck.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve stood obediently still under the showerhead mounted on the ceiling, letting water rain over him and slip down his body. Bucky’s hands were gentle as they worked shampoo into his hair, lathering it up first and then rinsing it out. He chose to forgo their fancy body wash in favour of a bar of neroli-scented soap that he could apply with his hands instead of a loofah.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sank into the feeling of Bucky’s soapy hands rubbing him down gently, feeling over every inch of his skin like he was relearning familiar roads. When Bucky turned him around and soaped down his back, suds-soaked fingers slipping over the cheeks of his ass and dipping between to press over his hole, he groaned and spread his legs just slightly in encouragement. But Bucky didn’t linger, just soaping him up and rinsing him clean.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He received the same treatment over his chest and down his stomach until Bucky’s slippery hand closed over his cock, which had plumped but remained soft. It didn’t feel like it had before, when he’d been soft and trying not to be – now, it just felt like Bucky was touching him just for the feel of it, not to elicit a reaction. He felt sensitive like a nerve when Bucky pulled his foreskin back and washed him with gentle fingers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I love just touching you,” Bucky murmured over the roar of the shower. “Just feeling you, taking care of you. I love it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels good,” Steve told him. His chest was full and tingly and he realized it was joy. “It’s – good.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to suck you off, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not now,” Steve whispered back, running his hands over Bucky’s own wet back. Bucky cupped him gently, a thumb stroking at his groin. “Just…keep touching me like that. It’s nice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it, Stevie.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the day curled around each other, skin pressed together sweetly, taking the time to learn each other’s bodies anew. Steve didn’t think everything was resolved – he knew his heart still hurt and they had a long way to go, but he felt like they were walking together now, instead of down two paths to the same destination. It was a long road, but one they could manage together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re 8 years in when everything just….</span>
  <em>
    <span>fits</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
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